From Bank to Kayak Angler

 

      The problem with being a bank angler is that you are a slave to the seasons—and to the heat. I remember those magical spring days: beating the banks of local ponds, feeling the cool morning air, and watching the bobber disappear below the surface. Crappie were plentiful then, easy to trick with a minnow or jig under a slip float. It was a consistent, reliable bite. But like clockwork, the moment the summer sun turned the shoreline water into a stagnant, shimmering haze, the main event would simply disappear. The bigger fish—the bass and the slabs—seemed to vanish. All that was left were tiny sunfish and the ghost of an evening largemouth. This annual summer vanishing act was my most incredible frustration until I bought a boat.

My first boat was a humble Lowe Roughneck, equipped with a 25-horsepower Mercury outboard, electric start, and a foot-operated trolling motor. It was a budget-friendly setup, but the learning curve for successful boat-based angling was steep. My tactics and overall strategy needed a complete overhaul. The initial frustration went beyond the fish: I had to quickly master the practicalities of fuel systems, trailer maintenance, and marine electronics. The "simple" outboard, in particular, proved deceptively complex. My catches were few and far between. That chapter closed when I sold the boat to upgrade my fleet to two specialized kayaks: an Old Town Sportsman 106 and a PDL 120. The complexity of the trailer and outboard felt like more work than fun, and I realized I wanted a minimalist rig that could access tiny pockets of water the Roughneck couldn't access.

The kayak promised unparalleled versatility, opening up the tucked-away creeks, narrow rivers, and small ponds that larger boats couldn't touch—while still handling the wide-open conservation lakes. The kayaks didn't just expand my range; they demanded a new angling skill set and granted access to lesser-pressured waters. After a year and a half of paddling and casting, I'd like to share a few essential lessons I've learned about kayak fishing.

Boat Positioning is Key

The Roughneck introduced me to this particular lesson: When you're out there, it's a real challenge to stay far enough away. Unruly winds and improper boat control often conspire to push you too close to your quarry. Many times, I found myself directly over fish I should have been casting to from a distance. Another challenge was launching 7-dollar lures into the brush that lined the banks because I had gotten too close. The Old Town PDL made this easier to contend with. With a rudder and pedals at my disposal, minor tweaks to my trajectory are relatively simple.  I like to keep the bank 20 yards or so to my left and fan cast as I follow its contour. Using this technique allows me to bring my bait from shallow to deeper water in a systematic pattern. When I encounter offshore vegetation or structure, I can simply alter my course to skirt the edge of the suspected cover. 

I recall a recent fishing trip where the wind truly bullied my son and me. My son's paddle kayak required constant, frustrating adjustment, and even my pedal-powered unit was frequently redirected. We were lucky to cast to a single location maybe twice before the wind pushed us off-target, forcing us to paddle back. That frustration led me to a solution: the stern-mounted Anchor Wizard. This purchase has proven invaluable on choppy days. Now, when I find a promising location, I simply drop a 3-pound grapnel folding anchor using the Wizard. This weight and style are perfect for holding my 12-foot kayak in place, allowing me to fish thoroughly. Other anglers rely on an anchor trolley system, which lets them adjust the anchor's position along the kayak's length. The drawback, however, is having a loose anchor rolling around the tank well when not in use. A third option we explored was an anchor pole, such as the 9-foot Power-Pole. While it may be used to tie off or through a kayak scupper, I found this setup less desirable because the pole is cumbersome and difficult to store when not in use. Additionally, its effectiveness depends on the depth and composition of the bottom. 

Get Out of Your Comfort Zone

Having the ability to go to the fish opens a whole new world of angling. From the bank, access is limited; we’re at the mercy of the cover and location of our quarry. There is a tendency to find a lure or tactic and stubbornly use it, even if it doesn’t produce fish. I found myself doing the same thing from my kayak, often with the same results. I paid handsomely for a vessel to gain access, yet all I did was fish the banks; the only difference was that I could reach banks that other anglers could not. It wasn’t until I made the conscious decision to focus on offshore cover that I learned this valuable lesson.

The lake I was fishing is full of standing timber. In the area I was in, the bank quickly drops from about 4 feet to 20 feet or more in depth over a 100-foot span. A glance reveals a scattering of submerged trees, with several visible above the waterline. My goal was to cast a KVD 2.5 squarebill at the stumps and bang into as many as I could on my retrieve. As usual, I made casts toward the rocky bank and cranked with an erratic, stop-and-go retrieve. I did this to the point of frustration without a single strike. I passed a couple of guys who were flipping jigs at the bank, and wouldn’t you know it, one of them hooked up right in front of me. I was discouraged, but I persevered.

I pedaled my way to a large group of trees, thinking that there had to be something lurking around in there. The trees were located in the center of the creek mouth, a reasonable distance from the bank. With each cast, I gained more confidence. I moved closer to the cover and thumped my craw pattern bait on the limbs, careful not to snag. The gentlemen in the bass boat were still within sight when my reeling was interrupted by a violent thump, and my 7-foot medium rod bent toward the water's surface. I had hooked a good one! I could see the fisherman watching as I fought the fish they had passed while flipping the bank nearby. I was thrilled when I saw the light green flash as the largemouth tried his best to shake my lure. I reached down and snatched him up by the lip. I had an ear-to-ear grin, only made better by one of the guys yelling “nice” from 60 yards away. While it seemed a bit deflated post-spawn, this would be the longest bass I had caught to date, measuring 22 inches, and I was stoked!

What I realized in that moment was that I wasn't fishing the best cover; I was fishing the most convenient cover. I started out fishing the same places and in the same way, expecting a different result. It wasn’t until I ventured away from my comfort zone by the bank that I found success. My past experiences with fishing around trees in deeper water have always led to a snag and the loss of a lure or two. I worked my way in from a distance and built confidence in the tactic, which led to me landing a giant of a fish and fooling my fellow anglers into thinking I knew what I was doing for a moment. Since then, I have become fairly productive and confident throwing crankbaits around standing timber and the like. Which leads me to my next lesson.

Have Fun!

Fishing isn’t supposed to be a chore or burden; it’s a break from the hustle of work and responsibility. Fishing is more than catching a limit or a heavy five-fish bag. Take the time to enjoy an early morning with water as smooth as glass.  See the sun break the horizon and begin to burn the light fog from the surface. Stop and listen to the geese searching for a spot to set their wings and land. Watch for that tail flick of a whitetail doe as she cruises the bank for an early morning drink before disappearing into the hardwoods. Share the water with your family and friends. My most rewarding fishing trips have included watching others find success and build confidence along with me. There is something special about watching someone else catch a personal best or learn the value of a new technique. 

The simple truth is that my transition from bank to kayak wasn't merely about acquiring new gear; it was about reclaiming a passion. By tackling the challenge of boat positioning and making the conscious decision to fish where the fish actually live, I finally broke free of the seasonal trap that held me back. Now, summer is no longer a time of frustration, but a challenge met with a new set of skills, and the best part is that the frustration is gone. The kayak didn't just give me access to better spots—it gave me access to better fishing, all year round, and reminded me why I got started in the first place. Whether you're paddling offshore or simply changing your lure, the real lesson of the water is this: the greatest joy in angling is always just beyond your comfort zone.